


Every Night the Same

by Rickey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Denial, M/M, POV First Person, Smut, psycho-smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-14
Updated: 2006-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rickey/pseuds/Rickey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post War. They’re 18. Harry and Ron are involved, only neither can admit it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Night the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: I have no idea (is there such thing as psycho-smut? {;-)  
> Beta Thanks: kanoei  
> Story first posted: Oct 14, 2006

Every night the same, Ron comes into my room as if sleepwalking. He’s naked and crawls in bed beside me. I pull him in close and pretend to be snuggling with a teddy bear. I’m awake and he knows it from the instant erection leaning on his thigh, but we both murmur as if in a dream. He rolls on top of me and kisses my neck. I want to come just from the shear force of his body pressing into mine, but I know he has other things planned. He always does.

His mouth finds mine. He tastes like raspberry tea and chocolates. I devour him as any sweet. I run my fingers lightly over his back. Instantly, he has lots of goose bumps and moans in my mouth. He loves that. The foreplay is great, but who are we kidding? There are more pressing matters. He straddles my body and slides up my chest. So this is what he wants tonight. He grabs the headboard and lowers himself over my face. I open my mouth and guide him in. His eyes are closed. They are always closed. I usually have mine closed as well, but sometimes I can’t help but watch him. Watch the intense pleasure rush over his face as I suck him hard and knead his sweet arse. He thrusts into my mouth over and over until he loses all control. I take in every last bit of him. He moans incoherently. We never speak.

It’s been three months this way, every night the same. Well not every night. We had moved into Number 12 Grimmauld Place together a few weeks after the final battle. The first night he just came into my bed in his pajamas and cuddled like a small child. He was gone when I awoke. When he didn’t say anything the next day, I figured I’d just let it go. We both had been through so much. The next night was the same except sometime in the middle he took off his bottoms and masturbated. I was scared out of my mind. I was also turned on out of my mind. About a minute after he was through, he reached over and felt my erection. He pushed down my pajamas and silently stroked me off. I fell asleep with my pajamas around my knees and when I woke, he was gone.

The next morning was even more shocking as he acted as if nothing had happened. I wasn’t about to say anything at that point. If he could be in denial, then I could be too. The third night he showed up naked and sucked me off. The fourth night I sucked him off. After he caught his breath, he rolled over and got up on all fours. I took the hint and fucked him. Since then it’s been the same. We go to bed in our own rooms. Within a half an hour he shows up, eyes closed and cock at attention. We get each other off, the “how” being the only variable of the evening. We clean ourselves up with whatever t-shirt or towel is on the floor by the bed. We never use magic. We never speak. We fall asleep and somehow, I haven’t figured it out yet, he’s gone when I wake.

Three months is a long time. I wonder which one of us will break first. Deep down, I know it will be me. Tonight I’m feeling a bit wild. It’s going to be a long one. After he pulls himself out of my mouth, I roll him over and onto his back. I take my lube from the nightstand and cover my fingers. He moans as I prepare him. I know just where he likes to be touched. I push his knees to his chest and enter him slowly. I’m watching his face again. I’m watching him contort and moan in response to my slow strokes. I can tell he wants it harder and faster. He’ll never ask for it though. Instead, he reaches for my hips to pull me closer. I see that he’s hard again. He’s so tight. I love it. I close my eyes. I take my time. I need to make it last. This is all we have.

For seven years we’ve been best mates. Never once did we act on a single fleeting impulse, a quick glance or smile that sent a tingle down my spine. He must have had them too. How could he not? We never allowed ourselves to feel anything. And now we shag every night like wild monkeys. By day we still feel nothing. Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves. The fact that we are utterly pathetic is not lost on me. I’m sure there is some muggle psychology term for what is happening to us, but I’m not about to ask Hermione. The only thing I know right now is how amazing it feels inside Ron’s arse and that I want to remain there forever.

Soon my body is no longer cooperating and its need becomes greater than my desires. I pick up the pace and slam into him. I’m sweating. My balls slap against his skin. He’s moaning louder and louder. I open my eyes to see. Shite. He’s looking at me. I can’t look away. He’s so fucking hot. His blue eyes are blazing. His mouth is gasping for air. I keep his stare as I pound furiously into him. This is a new development. He’s jerking himself off, but his eyes never leave mine. I try to hold off a little longer, but it’s no use. He’s coming all over his stomach. I hear him yell out something, but I don’t know what. There’s a ringing in my ears. I scream his name as I come and then collapse on top of him.

I roll over on to my back and I am afraid, very afraid for the first time in months. Whatever illusion we had going is broken now. Ron sits up and grabs my wand from the nightstand. He lights the candle that’s sitting there. My heart is pounding in my chest. He mutters a cleaning spell. He replaces my wand and turns back to face me. I sit up and meet his stare. In the faint light he looks at me, really looks at me for the first time in months. He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine. I reach for him and pull him close. We’re kissing with our eyes open. He gently breaks the kiss and we lie back down. He pulls the sheet and blanket over the both of us. My head immediately finds a comfortable spot on his chest.

When I wake, it is morning. The candle has burnt out. He is still here.

“Good morning,” he says.


End file.
